He exhaled loudly and continued, “I’d never seen the guy before. He shoved the papers at me and then ... was escorted off the premises, I guess you could say. I tried to read the divorce papers, but I was kind of in shock.”
Gilbert put on an understanding expression and nodded, “Of course you were, son.”
Nick smiled, lapping up the feigned sympathy.
“Did you try to reach your wife then?”
“Of course. I called several times, but she didn’t answer her cell phone or the home phone.”
“And what time was this, roughly?”
Nick gave him the same answer he’d given Sasha. “It was the seventh inning or so of the baseball game, so maybe ten-thirty.”
Gilbert nodded his head rapidly, like that was the right answer.
“Clarissa didn’t answer, so, I guess you went home then? To try to talk to her, right?”
Nick flicked his eyes away from the detective and met Sasha’s gaze. His temporary relief leaked away and he widened his eyes, asking what he should say.
Sasha looked at him, expressionless. He had to tell the truth. They’d been over this in the car: there were witnesses who had watched him get drunk. Their shared brotherhood in the Greek social club wasn’t going to override the fact that a woman—a Greek woman whose father and brothers were also members of the club, no less—had been murdered.
He cleared his throat and returned his attention to Gilbert. “Uh, no. Actually, I didn’t.”
“You didn’t?” Gilbert echoed, his surprise so exaggerated that Sasha could tell he wanted Nick to know he already knew the truth. “Well, what did you do then?’“
Nick plowed ahead, as if saying the words faster would make it better. “I had some more to drink. I tried to call her a few more times, and she still didn’t answer. Eventually, I did go home.”
“Would you say you were inebriated when you left?”
“He’s not an expert, Detective,” Sasha interjected. “Mr. Costopolous can’t know if he was over the legal limit.”
Gilbert finally turned to look at her.
He raised an eyebrow and said, “I’m not looking to charge your client with a DUI, Ms. McCandless. I just want to know if, in his subjective opinion, he felt as though he were intoxicated. He’s an expert on how he feels, isn’t he?”
Nick waited for Sasha to give him permission to answer.
Sasha shrugged. “Go ahead and answer,” she told him.
“Yeah, I guess I was probably drunk,” Nick said.
“You probably were,” Gilbert agreed. “As I understand it, you had no fewer than eight shots of ouzo after you received the divorce papers. Does that sound about right?”
Someone from the Greek club had talked.
“Maybe. I lost count,” Nick mumbled.
“So, after drinking heavily for several hours, you went home to confront your wife.”
Gilbert phrased it as a statement, not a question, but Nick answered it anyway.
“I didn’t go home to confront her. I went home, because I live there and I was tired. I mean, sure, I figured we could talk about whatever was going on with her, but I didn’t go home to pick a fight. I just went home.”
“Did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Talk about why she filed for divorce?”
“No.”
“And why’s that?”
Nick dropped his eyes down to the desk and mumbled, “She’d had the locks changed while I was out. I couldn’t get in.”
“Now, I want to make sure I have this straight,” Gilbert said, giving Nick a friendly grin. “You hadn’t been having any marital problems, but you went out like you do every Wednesday night, and your wife proceeded to serve you with divorce papers and have the locks to your home rekeyed?”
“That’s correct,” Nick said, staring at the detective.
“Son, do those sound to you like the actions of a woman who is happy in her marriage?”
Nick didn’t respond.
“Do they?” the detective pressed him.
“Of course not,” Nick snapped. “But, I don’t know why she did it. I have no idea.”
“No idea, huh?” Gilbert said.
“None.”
Gilbert’s smile sharpened.
Sasha’s pulse hammered. Gilbert was moving in for the kill. She didn’t know what he had, but he had something. Judging by the ugliness in his smile, it was something big.
Nick looked back at Gilbert with wide, guileless eyes, unprepared for whatever hit was coming.
Gilbert reached inside his jacket and produced a set of photographs from his breast pocket. He tossed the top picture on the desk in front of Nick. Sasha couldn’t see the image from where she sat, but Nick’s expression told her it wasn’t good. She hoped they weren’t crime scene photos.
“Maybe she didn’t like knowing you had a girlfriend?” Gilbert said in a casual tone.
Nick snatched the photograph and held it up to his face.
“It’s not what it looks like,” he said.
“It’s not?” Gilbert asked. “What is it, then, Mr. Costopolous? Because what it looks like is you kissing a very attractive, very young—possibly even underage—female.”
Gilbert slapped the next photograph down.
“In addition, it looks, in this embrace, as though you’ve got one hand on her breast and one hand on her buttocks while you’re kissing her.”
Nick stared down at the photo and gulped for air like a fish.
Sasha gritted her teeth to keep from yelling at him. Clients and their lies. If Nick had simply told her about the girl, she could have prepared him for this line of questioning. Instead, he had insisted there was nothing to tell; now, there was little, if anything, she could do to help him.
Gilbert continued, almost gleeful now. “That photograph makes it seem like you and she had a sexual relationship, but this picture here, this one’s my favorite. The way you’re cupping the girl’s face in your hands and staring soulfully into her eyes, it’s very loving. Tender, even.”
He tossed the last photo toward Nick and said, “In fact, knowing women, I’ll bet that last one upset your wife more than the others. Especially given how emotional they become when they’re pregnant.”
Nick had been staring at the pictures as if he were in a trance. Once Gilbert’s words registered, he jerked his head up, a look of anguish seared on his face.
“Clarissa was pregnant?”
Sasha’s stomach sank. She forced herself not to rub her temples.
Unbelievable.
Nick began to sob.
“Mr. Costopolous needs to take a break,” she said.
“Of course,” Gilbert replied, not bothering to hide the triumph in his voice. “I’ll give you a few moments of privacy.”
He stood as though he were going to leave, and Sasha stood, too.
“We’d like some actual privacy, Detective Gilbert. Not to sit in this room and have our conversation recorded while you and your colleagues watch,” she said with a nod toward the observation mirror. “We’re going to take a walk outside, so Mr. Costopolous can get some fresh air.”
Gilbert folded his arms across his chest, and she could see his muscles tensing even through his strained jacket sleeves. He was silent for a moment.
“Mr. Costopolous is not in custody, correct?” Sasha pressed him.
“Not yet,” Gilbert conceded.
“We’ll be back in five minutes,” she said, as she started toward the door and gestured for Nick to follow her.
“Take the pictures,” Gilbert offered. “I have copies.”
She scooped them up from the desk and strode out the door. Nick stumbled along behind her.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Sasha turned on Nick as soon as the thick glass door shut behind them and they stepped out into the dark night.
“What’s wrong with you? I asked you if there was anything I needed to know. Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded
&
nbsp; He blinked at her through his tears.
She couldn’t afford to feel sympathy for him now. Not if she was going extricate him from the trap he’d just walked into.
“I ... I didn’t know she was pregnant,” he said.
Sasha pulled him away from the building. They stood under a tall spotlight that illuminated the first several rows of the parking lot in a pool of yellow light.
“But you knew you were cheating on her,” Sasha said, trying not to yell.
Nick shook his head, rejecting the words.
“I wasn’t.”
Sasha pushed the pictures in her hands toward him.
“What then, Nick? You were walking down the street and tripped? You stumbled into this girl and your tongue landed in her mouth?”
“It wasn’t how it looks,” he insisted, pouting.
“How was it, Nick? You need to start talking. Fast.”
“Okay, a couple weeks ago, maybe a month, I don’t know, this girl wandered into the club. I told you sometimes people come in looking for a bar or whatever, right?”
“Yes.”
She forced her anger back and focused on his story, searching for some sliver of evidence she could use to save him.
“So, she came in, real timid and shy, and looked around. She was trying to find My Sister’s Place.”
“What’s that,” Sasha asked, “a bar?”
He shook his head. “I’d never heard of it. She said it was a battered women’s shelter.”
“Wait. Was she speaking to you directly or just to the room in general?”
Nick thought.
“She scanned the place, nervous, when she came in. I smiled at her, you know, to put her at ease.”
And to flirt with her, Sasha thought.
“Go on,” she said.
“So, I guess, she thought she could trust me or something, because she came straight over to me.”
“Okay, she came over to you and asked if you knew where this shelter was?”
“Right. She said her boyfriend had a bad temper and had beaten her up pretty good. She was leaving him.”
Sasha rolled her eyes. “Go on.”
“Well, she was pretty scared. Jumpy like. So, I told her I’d buy her a drink and then help her find the place.”
“Just being chivalrous?”
“Yes. I wasn’t putting the moves on her, I swear.”
Sasha held up the photograph again.
“Just listen. So, I got her a glass of wine.”
“I don’t suppose anyone checked her identification?”
“No, it’s a private club. But, I’m telling you, she wasn’t a teenager. She was in her early twenties; I could just tell.”
“Her age is the least of your problems right now.”
He continued, “So we had a drink; she was pretty quiet. She didn’t talk much. She was kind of in a hurry to find that shelter. So we left.”
“You left with her, but you had no intention of getting together with her, right?” Sasha asked.
“I swear I didn’t.”
Sasha looked at the picture. The girl was beautiful in a California girl way. She was tall and athletic, with straight, long blond hair. A pert nose and huge blue eyes. She was right out of central casting. And a stark contrast to Clarissa Costopolous, who was a short, curvy olive-skinned woman, with curly black hair and a classically Greek nose.
“But she’s an attractive girl, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yeah, she’s pretty hot,” he admitted.
“So, what happened?”
“The address she had was about two blocks away. I put a hand on her back while we walked, just because she was shaking like a leaf. Sasha, the girl was terrified her boyfriend was going to find her.”
Sasha raised a brow but said nothing.
“When we got to the address, I asked if she was sure it was the right place. It looked like just a regular townhouse. She said that was it. There was no sign or anything, because it was a secret place.”
“Sure.”
Nick continued, “She kept thanking me. She asked if she could give me a hug. She said I might have saved her life.”
Even now, Sasha could see him puff up at the notion of his nobility. She resisted the urge to shake him by the collar.
“So, she hugged you,” Sasha prompted.
“Right and then she kissed me. I wasn’t expecting it. It was so sudden. And she put my hands on her ... you know, like in the second picture.”
Nick was staring out into the darkness now, not meeting her eyes.
“Are you telling me you resisted her, Nick?”
He didn’t answer.
“Nick? We don’t have time for this.”
“Okay, maybe not at first. I was just, you know, stunned. I might have kissed her back, I guess.”
“You guess.”
“Yes, I kissed her. But then, I realized what I was doing. I couldn’t do that to Clarissa again. That was when I took her face in my hands. I told her, as gently as I could, that I was married. That’s all.”
“What do mean, you couldn’t do that to Clarissa again?”
Nick waved the question away. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago.”
Sasha stared at him until he started talking again.
“Fine. I cheated on Clarissa before we were married. Like I said, a long time ago.”
“How long?”
Nick thought. “I guess she was in law school, or maybe it was her first year working at Prescott.”
“Who was she?”
“Just a girl I knew.”
“A Greek girl?”
Nick shook his head. “No. In fact, when Clarissa found out, she called her Malibu Barbie. Come to think of it, she kind of looked like this girl,” he said, nodding toward the picture.
Sasha stared at him.
“What?” he asked.
“It was a honey trap,” she said.
“A what?”
“Nevermind,” Sasha said. “This first girl, Malibu Barbie, how’d Clarissa find out?”
“Her name was Kristy. She called Clarissa and told her. She wanted to break us up.”
“What happened?”
Even in the shadows, Sasha could see a blush stain Nick’s cheeks.
“Clarissa was devastated. I thought she was going to leave me. Ellen and Martine sure tried to get her to. But, we worked it out. It made me realize how much I loved her. I didn’t want to lose her. I broke things off with Kristy, and I swore to Clarissa that I’d never cheat on her again.” He held Sasha’s gaze for a long time. “And, I didn’t. I wouldn’t. I’ll be the first to admit I have a wandering eye. And, yeah, maybe I flirt sometimes, but I have never broken my marriage vows.”
“Well, until a month ago,” Sasha reminded him.
He clenched his jaw. “Okay, fine.”
It was time to move on before Gilbert came looking for them.
“So you were out on the street when this woman threw herself at you?”
“Right.”
“I assume you didn’t notice anyone with a camera?” Sasha asked.
Nick shook his head.
“Did this girl have a name?”
“She didn’t tell me, and I didn’t ask. She was going into hiding, remember?”
“Right. So, you watched her go into this townhouse?”
“No.”
“No?”
Nick shrugged and explained, “She said she felt safer already, she was going to sit on the porch and pull herself together before she went in.”
“So, you just left this allegedly terrified, impossibly hot woman sitting there?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Look, I got her there. And it was kind of awkward. I had just rejected her. So, I wished her luck and headed back to the club.”
“Did you see her go in? Or even go on the porch?”
“No, I didn’t look back,” Nick said.
Some white knight he was.
“I don’
t suppose you remember the address?”
“Of course, I do.”
Sasha stared at her client. “You do? You’re sure?”
“Yeah. I’m sure. I recognized the street name because I’d done some work around the corner about a year ago for a couple who wanted custom kitchen cabinets. The townhouse we went to was two in from the corner.”
Sasha suppressed the hope that fluttered in her chest.
“Let’s go. You can try to sell this to Gilbert.”
Nick put out a hand to stop her.
“But you believe me, right?”
His warm brown eyes searched her face.
She sighed. “Actually, I do.”
Apparently, she had not one, but two, gullible clients who’d been set up by an unknown photographer who knew their character weaknesses.
The trick would be to convince Gilbert.
CHAPTER 34
Detective Gilbert was not convinced.
He threw back his head and laughed. “So, let me get this straight, you weren’t cheating on your wife. You were just a good Samaritan caught in a compromising position.”
“That’s right,” Nick said, earnest and wide-eyed.
“And,” Gilbert went on, “there just happened to be a photographer handy to capture this misleading kiss.”
Nick turned to Sasha, a silent plea for help.
They were back in the stuffy square of a room, the three of them squeezed around the desk, shoulder to shoulder, looking down at the pictures, which Nick had spread out like a fan.
“Don’t you find it odd that there’s photographic evidence of this ... encounter?” Sasha asked the detective. “Doubly so, considering that similar photos exist of the accused husband in another recent death of a Prescott & Talbott attorney?”
She hoped that by easing Greg Lang into the conversation, she could get Gilbert to consider the possibility that the two husbands had been framed without having to say it directly. If she suggested they’d been framed, she knew he would reject the notion outright. If he thought he’d come to it on his own, however, maybe they had a chance.
Gilbert was unimpressed. “Not really. I’d say it’s likely that two women, who happened to be colleagues and close friends, both had their suspicions about their husbands. Either together or separately, they decided to have their husbands followed by a private investigator or, perhaps, the ladies followed them themselves. It happens quite a bit.” He shrugged off the coincidence.
Sasha McCandless 03 - Irretrievably Broken Page 15
